The beryl shades of loneliness are something to splash about in, to drink, to become addicted to. I existed as nothing more than a shadow who’d bare and gnash teeth at the onset of nightfall. My broken body would lay alone for hours with limbs furled like that of a spider’s soulless skeleton. I was empty and unable see my heart spluttering and sighing through the skin pulled taught over my chest. I was alive without truly living, and it was paramount that I scrawled notes and vowed never to slip into this state of perpetual stagnancy.
Here I am. My blood and bones are fatigued, but I am trying to heal and occasionally I’ll taste a salty glint of my own light. This morning the sun is licking my legs with a honeyed tongue and I am sitting with curiosity clouding my eyes, gazing at the skin pulled taught over my heart as it opens, closes, opens, closes; beating like wings of a butterfly. I am breathing again.
Anna Karina & Jean-Paul Belmondo on the set of ‘Une Femme est Une Femme’ photographed by Raymond Cauchetier, 1961.
i wish
that i could banish you from my dreams at night but it’s the only time that i am able to see you these days, touch you, laugh at your funny faces, hold your hand. i am tired of waking up with the sinking feeling of knowing that your existence in my life is no longer and that text you sent me last night asking to hang out was something that i created.
